


Son and Heir

by afterwit



Series: The Redeemers [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterwit/pseuds/afterwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian never wanted to disappoint his father, but nor could he sacrifice himself for someone else's benefit.  [Backstory Fill-In, work in progress!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Smart Kid

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO AND WELCOME I am going to try doing a multi-chapter story now whoo I want to fill in Dorian's backstory from the few scraps that we know about him. Chapter one isn't the most exciting, I'm afraid, but it's foundational stuff for the rest of the story.

Dorian Pavus was an affable child, prone to spats of ill-temper and melancholy, but agreeable enough. There was a distinct change in him when around his father- he was caught in a sort of restrained self-discipline. He stood straighter, was more direct, and to the keen eyes of several dinner guests, the boy seemed to relax when he was away from Halward Pavus.

He was never a quiet child, but even at a young age enjoyed conversation with Magisters when he could be pulled from the library. Dinner parties and the like were occasion enough for Dorian to ask to stay up late and sit at the table with the adults, talking theory that a child had no right to know, much less understand. He charmed many dinner guests with his wit as much as by the sight of a well-dressed young boy dozing in the study as they passed through the manor to leave.

He quickly outgrew tutors as quickly as he moved through books, and seemed to be a good boy, to all those who didn’t look too closely.

To the cloying eyes of some, he was a boy of many faults, aged only eleven years.

“Dorian.” Magister Alwight smiled over the young boy, taking a sip of his wine. “I’ve heard your marks on this recent round of examinations were exemplary.”

Dorian nodded, smiling. He reached for his wine glass, taking a small sip in an effort to appear like he belonged. “They were.” He glanced to his father, hoping he would overhear, but saw he was engaged in conversation with a different guest. Dorian made a small face, and then smiled back up to the Magister. “I was the first to finish, as well.”

The Magister rested his chin in his hand, smiling a bit. “Curious, but unsurprising. I suspect we’ll be seeing you in the Magisterium before you’re too old, if you keep that up.”

Dorian nodded, folding his hands in his lap and fidgeting with his fingers under the Magister’s cold scrutiny. “Thank you, sir.”

The Magister smiled, nodding. To Dorian, he appeared to be an overgrown viper, all of them did. But they gave him sweet compliments and talked to him about magic, and he found he could tolerate them for that. There was something wrong, something broken in their core about them.

He resolved to himself that he would be a better man, when he had the power to change things.

Dorian stayed there for another fifteen minutes, listening to the adults, and then felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Dorian.”

He smiled, looking up into his father’s face. “Yes?”

“Perhaps it’s time you go to bed for now. The new tutor will be arriving early tomorrow.” His father offered him a smile, and Dorian nodded.

“I won’t disappoint you.” Dorian grinned and hopped down from his chair, standing at his father’s side. He nearly reached out for him, but instead managed a nod of his head. “Goodnight, father.”

Halward pulled him close, smiling and giving his son a hug. “Goodnight, Dorian. Rest well.”

Dorian nodded, followed up to his room by one of the slaves his father kept, a well-dressed Dalish woman who had taken care of him for many years, Berille. She was kind, he thought, but lacking in conversation for things that interested him. Still, she impressed several things to him that ultimately stuck with him- one being the importance of proper grooming.

“Young master.” She closed the door behind him, Dorian’s chambers were spacious for a boy, but were no more opulent than Tevinter demanded. “Did you enjoy the party?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. The food was a bit dry tonight. But no worse than the wine.” He sat on a chair, letting her take off his boots and socks, and she chuckled softly. He hopped down from the chair and fussed about his room, putting things back in their places and books back on a large case that only had the bottom four shelves occupied- he could not reach higher than that.

“Will that be all for tonight, young master Dorian? Do not forget to brush your teeth.”

“Hmm?” He looked up from searching under the bed. “Yes, until tomorrow…” He ducked his head back under the bed and made a small sound. “Aha! There it is.” Dorian smiled, pulling a battered wooden duck from under the bed and smiling.

\------------------------------------------------

He was awake before dawn the next morning, sneaking out of his chambers and wrapping his sleeping robes around him, stealing off to the library and conjuring a flame to light the candles for reading.

The library at the Pavus estate was a large room, occupying nearly half a floor and with books from Magisters that had been erased to nothing but a footnote in history. Dorian sat for hours, surrounded by the books that were his closest friends, letting himself get lost in arcane charts and histories. Tales of demons, of the Fade, were rare and read time and time again, almost a chilling warning of what would happen if power was pursued too far.

He held the candles in his hand, creeping through shelves and searching for where he had left off. He had sworn to himself that one day, he would read all of the books in this library.

He set the candelabra down on a large, polished wood table, and wandered through the nearby shelves, gathering books and returning with a stack of five. He climbed into the chair and set to reading through them. The first book, he read two pages of but found it… “Insipid.” He muttered to himself, throwing it behind himself. The second book was a fictional account of two lovers. Dorian rubbed at his face, reading it with slightly curiosity. From what he could gather, there was a brave and powerful mage, and his lady love.

He rested his head in his hand, tapping at the pages, reading them with a slight frown on his face. Something about it seemed wrong to him, in a way he couldn’t quite place. He knew, somehow distantly, that he would have to marry a woman once day, and the idea was distasteful. He couldn’t quite quantify why, only that the idea seemed suffocating to him. That wasn’t the life he wanted. Despite being a boy, he couldn’t see a future for himself like that, with a woman on his arm and...children. Other children played house, but Dorian had always refrained from it, sticking to his books and studies.

He didn’t have a word for what made that future of having a wife and children wrong yet, he only knew somehow that it meant something.


	2. Heir Apparent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still building on things here, but trust me there will be a more closely-following plot in the next few chapters as I dig into things with Rilienus, Halward, and Magister Alwight from Chapter 1!

Winters in Qarinus were mild enough, but summers could be stifling at times. Dorian yawned sleepily, shaking his head and fanning himself with the book in his hand.

Dorian Pavus, aged fourteen, had moved on from private tutors and into a prestigious private school, surrounded by other teenagers of magical talent. Things had been simple enough, save for one issue- it was not the coursework that gave him problems, but…

“Dorian!”

He looked up from his place among the shelves of books and felt his heart leap into his throat, almost threatening to strangle him with emotion. “Good afternoon, Gallus.”

Gallus was an upperclassman, two years older than Dorian but only a year ahead of him in coursework- not through any fault of his, Dorian had been promoted a year due to excellent entrance examination scores.

Gallus, however, was the only thing in school that was difficult for Dorian to grasp.

“What are you studying?” Gallus folded his arms across his chest, smiling. His hair curled around his face like an inky halo, his eyes equally as dark, but when he worked magic, it seemed like something illuminated in them.

Dorian smiled, gesturing with the book. “A Brief History of Qunari Saarebas Traditions.”

“Light reading, I see.”

“It’s...curious. Barbaric and chilling, but curious.” Dorian snapped the book shut, smiling at Gallus and trying to combat the strange lightness in his stomach.

The upperclassman shook his head. “They’re nothing more than savage brutes, really. I don’t understand why you waste your time with it.”

Dorian shook his head. “They are not as refined as us, true, but…” He raised his chin a little, giving Gallus a look that said he knew something the other teen didn’t. “If I am to be any measure of Magister near my father, I need to understand the world.”

Gallus seemed caught off-guard, and just nodded softly. He was a laetan, the first son to show talent among his family of merchants. That Dorian even met him seemed remarkable, and significant to him, at the time.

“Well…” Gallus tried to regain his footing, chewing on his lip and nodding. “Take care that you don’t go too far from Qarinus.” Gallus smiled a bit, looking down at his hands and then almost coyly back up at Dorian. “I would miss you.”

Dorian considered that for a moment, and then smiled, feeling some kind of hope in his chest threatening to drown out any other feeling he could have had at the moment. “What would you do without my fine company? I’ll have to make sure you don’t get bored without me.”

Gallus laughed softly, the tension in the air relaxing a bit. “You act sometimes like you’re the only remarkable thing in this city, Dorian. If only everyone had your confidence.”

“If they did, I wouldn’t be remarkable.” Dorian laughed softly, and nodded. He understood from a young age that any good Magister could never show weakness, and if he was to be one, he had to believe first and foremost in himself. He couldn’t expect others to fall for the bluff of flawlessness without living it, to some measure.

Gallus hesitated, and then nodded. “Well, I should head back to my own studies now...I just…”

There was something uncertain in the both of them, both wanting to reach out and stumble toward something youthful and clumsy that would undoubtedly last for only a few months before they both moved on, but would act as if each week was a hard-won prize.

In the end, it was Gallus who acted, stepping forward and pacing a quick kiss on Dorian’s cheek before darting away before anything could be said.

Dorian stood there for a few moments afterward, almost shocked and feeling from the strange tempest of emotion that boiled within him- hope and joy that was quickly sobered by the idea that though he wished to chase him down, to thread their fingers together and kiss him again, that it could never happen.

He could almost see his father’s face, the keen eyes of Magister Halward watching him and his mouth pressing into a slightly disapproving frown. Thoughts that maybe he could bring Gallus to dinner, perhaps his father would be as charmed by him and permit it, were all but crushed by the certainty that his father would naught but disapprove, tell him that Gallus was a diversion.

Dorian had duty to his family, he knew well enough. And part of that duty was to further the family line. The idea seemed to freeze any joy he had felt, and he turned back to the bookshelf, the leather-bound history in his hand seeming like a lead weight.

He placed it back on the shelf, sliding the book where it belonged and taking a shaky breath, trying as best he could to compose himself. Knowing that he could never have the life he had wanted, that he was stuck in the cage of being the heir to the Pavus estate- he had his duty. It seemed entirely like a cage, one that he was trapped in.

He let his fingers run across the books for just a moment, leaning against the shelf. He glanced aside, certain that no one was watching, and covered his face with his hands, allowing himself only a few tears as the knowledge settled on him that he would never have the life he had allowed himself to dream of- a comfortable manor, a seat in the Magisterium, and a man by his side that would be proud to love him. Things like that were simply not done in Tevinter, and that he had allowed himself for nearly two years to hope for it was almost salt in the wound, now that he understood. A foolish dream, but a dream nonetheless, almost ripped from his hands and thrown aside in favor of what was most important to him- duty to his family, and never wishing to disappoint his father.

He struggled with the idea of what it meant to be a Pavus, but Dorian at the same time. The two parts of himself seemed to contradict each other- a desire to be true to himself, to take what he wanted and make his dreams his reality, but caught in a world that simply didn’t have a place for him.

Dorian wiped his face, taking in a breath to steady himself. He brushed his hands over his robes, fixing them, and only allowed himself a moment to touch where Gallus’s lips had been, just for the briefest of moments.

Dorian turned, raising his chin and walking from the library with as much bravado as he could muster.


	3. Garden Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is rolling now! Everything has been set up, now it's time to put this show into motion.

Summers passed, and with them the uncertainty of youth. Dorian Pavus, age seventeen, nearly eighteen, was nearly a man, and one that most found charming enough. He had cast aside the hesitation of his earlier years, and the only thing his father could fault him for were the rumors that floated about his son. Halward knew he would have to do something about them, and set to putting his plans into motion.

Halward was a delicate politician, a man of grace and tact, but an iron hand in a velvet glove in his machinations. He was as cunning as any other Magister- to be cunning was simply to survive. He heard the rumors about Dorian well enough, and had arranged for a party to introduce several woman to his son, women of as fine breeding as Dorian, who would all produce suitable children, and hopefully who were talented enough mages in their own right to hold his son’s attention for more than mere moments.

Dorian, of course, looked forward to the party with dread.

“Master Dorian, please…” Berille sighed softly, wearing two feathered hats and with her arms draped in robes, looking resolutely at the wall away from the screen that Dorian was dressing behind. “The party started fifteen minutes ago.”

“Yes, I know, that means I have...a half an hour to arrive, at most.”

She sighed again, arms aching as another shirt flew over the screen and in her general direction.

“No, no, these are all wrong.” Dorian frowned to himself behind the screen. “I need something different, entirely different.”

“What is wrong with these clothes?” Berille frowned a bit, wavering where she stood, weighed down by heavy velvet and layers of fine linen. “Many of them are new.”

“I know, but none of them…” Dorian slipped another shirt over his head, patting it for a moment and looking himself over in a mirror. The pants were dark black, soft leather boots in dyed green leather and a green shirt. “I suppose this will do.”

Berille sighed in relief. “Thank the maker…” She murmured to herself, quietly.

“Berille!” Dorian waved his hand over the screen. “I need a robe to go over this. Something dark.”

“Master Dorian, if I may…”

“You may.”

“Perhaps a lighter color? Everything you have chosen is quite dark.”

“Ah, perhaps you’re right. Something to stand out a bit...can’t have my father thinking I’m not as excited about this party as he is, hmm?”

“Yes, Master Dorian.” She wobbled toward a large wardrobe, setting the shirts down and removing the hats, wiping her forehead and sighing in relief. “Black and green…” She brought a thin finger to her lips, tapping it and setting to sifting through the robes.

“What about...ah! The cream one.”

Berille smiled to herself, nodding. “With gold embroidery. I was thinking that one.”

“You have a good eye, Berille.” Dorian stepped from behind the screen, brushing his hands over his short hair and stepping toward a vanity. He scrutinized himself closely, pushing his skin about and looking for blemishes, satisfied when he found none.

“Here you are.” Berille held out the robes, and Dorian slipped into them, the slave tying his sashes and brushing the shoulders flat. The fabric was an almost glistening silk, embroidered with a gold snake’s coils from the hem to the creature’s face and fangs curling over his shoulder and onto his chest.

Dorian stepped back to the larger mirror, looking himself over, and nodded. “That will do, thank you!” He smiled, ever the picture of flippant calm, and gently kissed her cheek. “That will be all for tonight, Berille. Do enjoy the rest of your night.”

She nodded softly, setting to putting the clothes back as Dorian floated from his dressing room.

The walk through the corridors and hallways down to the dining room (more or less a hall, he corrected himself), were filled with the unease that he was stepping into a trap. Dorian loved his father, but any talk of things like marriages that they had were tense, Halward wishing for his son to find a woman and settle down, and Dorian stubbornly refusing.

Something had forced his father’s hand. Perhaps it was his looming birthday, or the examinations that would mark his graduation from the private academy.

Slaves passed him, ferrying bottles of wine and trays of food toward the hall, music and distant chatter drifting through the halls. Dorian paused in the corridor outside, uncertain if he could simply not attend, bury himself in books for the night, but certain his father would ferret him out.

He sighed, and then quickly composed himself, striding into the hall as proudly as the heir of House Pavus must be.

“Dorian, there you are!” Halward waved him closer, nodding and smiling at the woman next to him. “I wanted you to meet our distinguished guests tonight.”

Dorian nodded, smiling pleasantly. “I see. I do hope he hasn’t been ruining my poor reputation and telling you good stories of me.”

Halward glanced to his son and pursed his lips almost imperceptibly, but Dorian noted it as a small victory. “This is Areile Arastra.” He gestured to the woman, who couldn’t have been more than three years older than Dorian, dressed in blue and silver.

“A pleasure.” Her voice was pleasant, and she offered her hand to Dorian, curtseying gracefully. “Your father tells me you’re quite the mage.”

“Quite.” Dorian smiled, letting go of her hand. “And what of you, Areile?”

“I tutor and research at an academy in Minrathos.” She smiled, proudly.

Dorian turned to his father, nodding, and then back to Areile. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing more of you, then?”

She furrowed her brows a little at the delicate snub, glancing to Halward. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Dorian nodded pleasantly, making a small bow. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” With with that, he turned and walked further into the hall, boot heels tapping softly against the floor.

Halward’s eyes followed his son, and he frowned.

Dorian stepped through the hall and to the balcony, resting his forearms against the railing and leaning against it, shaking his head softly and thankful for a moment alone.

“Dorian.”

Perhaps not as alone as he had thought. He turned, looking to see Magister Alwight behind him, stepping forward and folding his arms behind his back. Matis Alwight was darker of complexion than Dorian, black hair offset by streaks of grey at the temples, and keen light brown eyes. His overall appearance reminded Dorian of a hawk, though his words and mannerisms reminded him of a viper, same as with most of the Magisters.

“Good evening, Magister Alwight.”

“Is it?” The Magister looked down at him, tilting his head a bit. “I suppose I’m not much one for parties anymore.”

Dorian managed a seemingly effortless smile. “A Magister, tired of parties? I never thought I’d see it.”

The Magister chuckled softly. “Perhaps I’m going soft in my old age. But what of you, Dorian? You don’t care for this, do you?”

“I just love a good party.” Dorian’s voice was as warm as he could make it. “There is nothing quite like prancing about like a garden peacock. Perhaps next time, I’ll have them glue feathers to my ass.”

The Magister smiled, shaking his head. “Well, should you ever grow tired of your father’s gardens, you are more than welcome to grace my estate. With your graduation soon, you’d do well to find a Magister to further your studies with.”

“A curious proposition.” Dorian glanced up to him. “And what work would that be?”

“Ah, I cannot give away all of my secrets now, can I, dear boy?” Matis smiled. “Come by sometime, and I’ll explain to you the nature of my work.”

Curious and intrigued, Dorian nodded. “I’ll consider it.”

“No doubt you will have many such offers after your graduation.” The Magister bowed. “I think you would do well to accept one…” He turned to step away, but turned back to speak softly over his shoulder. “Some might think it romantic, a bachelor putting his career before taking a wife.”

The words cut through Dorian- a precise, measured wound made of shame and hope- and he was left alone to ponder those words on the balcony. He looked up, to the stars, frowning a little and bringing his hand to his chin. For certain, he knew the rumors about him- he never cared to deny them. There was no shame in the truth, he thought, even an exaggerated truth. He had been caught two years prior kissing a boy after a class, and after that, the myth of Dorian Pavus seemed to grow every day. He often had a cutting remark for them, an arch jab, but in the end, the shame that he was causing his father grief seeped in.

But this...a chance to postpone the inevitable. It was not the ideal ending but, he thought even almost foolishly, perhaps if he could not be with someone he wanted to be with, he could live alone.

Alone, with his books.

He cursed softly to himself, turning back to the party and resolving to make good use of the fine wine his father had requested for tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not dead i swear i've just been doing a lot of rp with dorian instead of solo writing oops

The Circles in Tevinter were prestigious academies, and the Circle in Quarinus was well-respected enough that boys traveled and dormed there during the year, taking breaks in the winter and summer to visit their families. Dorian had been assigned a dormitory with an agreeable young man, Rilienus of House Lauri- a skilled mage, and one who could hold conversation easily.

Dorian was a bookish one, known to he found in the library when he could afford it. He never missed class, but it seemed, to many, that he lived there between the shelves of books.

“Dorian.”

He looked up from a tome, blinking blearily, and his eyes focused on the source of the voice. His stomach lurched slightly, though he wasn’t quite certain why.

“Rilienus.” Dorian smiled, shutting the tome that was in his lap, holding it against his chest. “What time is it?”

“Nearly mid-night.” Rilienus laughed softly, shaking his head, loose dark curls framing his face. “You’ve been here all night?”

“Since my lesson ended this afternoon.” Dorian hesitated for a moment, and then managed a soft grin. “I missed dinner.”

“I saved you something.” Rilienus sighed. “Come back to our room, it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. You know they hate it when you sneak food out of the dining hall.”

Dorian nodded, shelving the tome and stretching, yawning softly. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

“All the more reason for you to come back. You know I can’t sleep before them, I’m all nerves.” They stepped into the nearly-empty hallways, torches on the walls flickering to life and extinguishing as they passed. Dorian admired how effortlessly Rilienus worked with fire, with a sort of effortless grace and passion that Dorian appreciated. They were in the same year, dormed together when he was here, though the Pavus estate was only on the other side of the city. It was tradition, that boys live in the school while they were being taught.

“I’ve had offers from patrons.” Rilienus offered, quietly, cloak and robes pooling around him in the firelight, black cloth making him a silhouette with lines of shining gold thread, serpents and other small designs stitched into his robes. He glanced over, catching Dorian’s eye, and he chuckled softly. If he noted the way Dorian was looking at him, and Dorian was certain he had, he said nothing.

“I’ve had several.” Dorian said, softly.

“I’d suspect so, with the marks you get in your classes.” Rilienus smiled, looking ahead, and Dorian allowed himself just a moment to think of how beautiful he looked in the torchlight.

He’d known him for years, and though Dorian had a reputation at the school for certain…deviant things, Rilienus had never remarked on it. Of course, there was no shortage of attractive sons among the Altus caste, but Rilienus seemed all the more precious for his understanding, and his odd gentleness, aside from the attraction Dorian felt for him.

“So where are you going, then, Dorian?”

“The two best offers are from Magister Alwight, and a Magister in Minrathos, Alexius. Apparently he and my father are friends.” Dorian didn’t know much about Magister Alexius, but if his father considered him a friend, then he must have been a decent man.

Rilienus made a slight face. “Alwight? That old viper?”

Dorian tilted his head softly. “He’s been nothing but agreeable to me.”

“Oh, I’m certain. You know what they say about him and his apprentices…all young men, and he hasn’t taken a wife since his died...” Rilienus cast a glance to Dorian. “It’s not a wonder he wanted you to apprentice for him.”

Dorian felt something sinking in the pit of his gut, both knowing that Alwight’s offer might have been the expectation of something more than just patronage, and to know the same flaw ran deeply in him.

Dorian was silent, all the way up the stairs to their dormitory, and he opened the door, waving Rilienus inside and closing it. They were afforded two beds, on either side of the room, a bookshelf, and a large desk to work at. Rilienus waved a hand and the lanterns in their room sparked to life.

“Dorian, forgive me if I…”

The smirk came easily to Dorian’s lips, and he bit back the bile that had risen in his heart. “Not in the least. I, of anyone, am aware that I am a most desirable man.” And he smiled, leaving it at that, settling on his bed and picking a book up from it- one that had been laid cover-up and open to mark where he had left off.

Rilienus made a small noise of agreement, and then sat down next to him, bringing a leg up against the bed, and looking over at him. “You’re not incorrect, Dorian.” His voice was quiet, and he didn’t look at him, but his hands, the rings catching the flickering firelight.

Dorian looked over to him, and found himself smiling even as the heat crept into his face and his pulse quickened. “I often am.”

“I’m...sorry, if I misspoke.” In the firelight, his bronze skin looked like it shone gold.

Dorian shook his head softly. “You needn’t apologize, it was something I should have been aware of.” He should have been, and that was why it stung. Alwight had been someone he’d trusted, who had proposed, to him, a different sort of life. To think that he was possibly only looking to manipulate him into something beyond a patronage…

Rilienus reached over, resting a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have implied more than that. I know…” His fingers drummed against Dorian’s shoulder, uncertain for a moment. “...I would be a fool not to know, the rumors, about you, Dorian.”

“Ah, which ones?” Dorian tried to ignore the closeness, how he wanted to pull Rilienus close. “That I’m a terribly charming man? I can assure you, that one is dreadfully true.”

“That it is.” Rilienus looked down, and then let his hand slip from Dorian’s shoulder, taking a ringed hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Dorian could feel his pulse drumming in his ears, quick and heavy, and his felt hot, almost as if Rilienus had summoned fire to his skin. “Rilienus, I’m not entirely…”

“I’m certain, Dorian.” He leaned closer, black curls like a halo, and his lips curled into a wry smile. “I’ve been certain for some time.”

Dorian closed the space between them, bringing his hands to hold Rilienus’s face as he kissed him.

If only the world was so simple that it could have stayed like that, he would think, bitterly, years later. Just the two of them, and not the weight of years and words unsaid between them.

But for this night, in a Circle in Tevinter, the two of them kissed for the first time, and something sparked in Dorian’s soul that he would only realize was love far too late. There were times, later, that he would think of those few nights with Rilienus, sleepless nights, and he would have traded them for nearly anything.


End file.
